


A Third Path

by NRGburst



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Non-Explicit Sex, Post AotC AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-14 07:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5734219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NRGburst/pseuds/NRGburst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because sometimes consequences are blessings in disguise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Third Path

**Author's Note:**

> Happier ever after AU diverging from canon right at the end of AotC- I wanted to see if I could take their relationship towards something a bit more sustainable. Also seriously what a crappy prophecy-- or is it a crappy interpretation? #thatsnothowbalanceworks #lemmefixthatforyou
> 
> Thanks to [mika213](http://mika213.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing! <3

Padmé had always imagined she’d marry an older man, somebody wiser and steadier with complementary views and ambitions. After all, fortifying political alliances through family connections is both efficient and effective.

 

 

In hindsight, maybe she’d considered things _too_ sensibly.

 

 

Perhaps it’s the way he looks at her so fervently. Or just that he’s more handsome than any Jedi ought to be in those rough brown robes. But the bolt of instant attraction leaves her stunned, nerves ablaze and senses tingling even as she reels in the knowledge that she recognizes him.

 

 _Making a statement sometimes tricks the brain into believing,_ she reminds herself belatedly, flustered by the intensity of her inappropriate reaction. “You’ll always be that little boy I knew on Tatooine,” she manages, although the flush in her cheeks is too late to stop.

 

Still, she turns away abruptly. She’s too rational to be distracted by something as silly as physical attraction. At the very least, she’s guarded now against whatever had prompted that response.

 

 

Or so she tells herself.

 

 

But once they’re on their own it grows perniciously, resisting all her attempts at stifling or denial.

 

 

An affair with her young, government assigned Jedi bodyguard would make for scandal, one her career might not survive. And he’s spent years learning to control power of a very different sort, one that requires a commitment to detachment and celibacy. Besides, he’s too proud, too rash, and his infatuation with her is almost frightening in its intensity.

 

But oh, how she _aches_. She’s so used to polite masks and slippery half-truths, loyalties that shift from bill to bill and agendas behind every conversation. Whereas Anakin knows nothing of artifice and is loyal to a fault, speaking only from a genuine desire to connect. Thinking of him as a boy doesn’t help either: the young slave who’d risked his life to help stranded strangers is still at the core of the man beside her now. Master Qui-gon had trusted in his brash confidence because of the prophetic nature of Anakin’s dreams.

 

 

And he’s been dreaming of _her._

 

 

She’s never believed in destiny. She believes in innovation and hard work, in goals and commitment and cooperation laying the framework for the future. And yet she can’t deny the things she’s seen the Jedi do, how he’d consistently dreamed of his mother’s torment despite being worlds away.

 

 

Can’t deny that she wants him desperately despite the long list of reasons she shouldn’t.

 

 

And now they are here, on the other side of certain death, with the metallic tap of his new fingertips on the controls a stark reminder of how easily lives and chances can be lost, though he says nothing as he pilots.

 

 

He won’t hold her to words and kisses given in desperation, although she can see the tension in his shoulders, the set of his mouth, the hope burning in his eyes.

 

 

And she can no longer bear to resist offering love and comfort the way she wants to; the solace he craves.

 

 

So once he makes the jump to hyperspace, she reaches over and chooses unwisely.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

To her surprise, he pulls back while they’re kissing. But what makes her eyes fly open with shock are the words he utters.

 

“Marry me, Padmé.”

 

“… _What?_ ”

 

“You know that I’ve loved you from the moment I met you. Please. Marry me.”

 

She’s speechless for a minute, searching his eyes, still panting and breathless. “Ani… I love you too, with all my heart. But marriage is a _huge_ commitment. Most couples-”

 

“What? Date? So I’ll swing by the Senate to pick you up between Jedi missions? While the galaxy goes to war?”

 

She considers, trying to ignore the traitorous demands of both her body and heart. “Well, we don’t know if the Separatists will officially declare war-”

 

His mouth falls open, aghast. “You’re stalling like a politician!”

 

She gives him an irritated look. His assessment is completely accurate, but it’s hardly kindly meant. “I _am_ a politician!”

 

“And this is our relationship, not some bill about raising taxes or ceding territory!”

 

She exhales, at a loss on how to placate him without risky concessions. There’s no plausible scenario she can posit between them besides the secret one he’d suggested back on Naboo, and marriage is far easier to trace than stolen kisses.

 

But he’s not done pleading his case. “We’re risking everything for a reason. And I don’t want to let go of someone who loves me. Not again.” He takes hold of her hands. He has that feverish look in his eye again, the one that totally unnerves her. “I want to have every right to love you, body and soul, even if it’s only in secret. That way if I’m brought before the Council for breaking the code…”

 

He tilts his head and raises his brows in silent appeal, and she bites her lip. She can see how a marriage certificate would offer him certain legal and financial protections on Coruscant if the worst truly came to pass, would make the optics easier to spin if scandal broke.

 

 

She sighs and smiles ruefully. “Since when did you get so good at diplomatic negotiations?”

 

He grins. “So that’s a yes?”

 

 

She can’t help laughing, pulling him back down for a kiss. “ _Yes._ ”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Obtaining the marriage license is easy on Naboo’s well-organized government site, and she sends out a request to a friend in the Lake Country. Judge Harmon will be discreet, and the staff at the villa they’d stayed at already know their preferences and are wonderfully unobtrusive.

 

 

So they steal a couple of days, loving and laughing and dreaming and loving some more. She wants to memorize the way he tastes and smells, the way he feels inside her and on top of her and under her hands. How he looks at her like she’s a goddess and worships her with his mouth and hands, gasping her name like a litany when he’s a hairsbreadth from ecstasy.

 

 

This may be their only chance for months, so they spend the hours focused devoutly on each other.

 

And yet it surprises her to see how Anakin can completely compartmentalize the specter of a future spent mostly apart and the trauma he’s just endured. Whereas with each passing hour she thinks increasingly of the duties that loom, finds it harder to ignore the persistent blink of messages on the comm unit.

 

“How can you do that?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“ _Not worry._ Surely you should report in. Obi-Wan must be worried about how you’re taking things.”

 

Anakin shrugs, running his fingers lightly over her skin, reveling in the freedom he has to touch her at last. “It’s only logical that I escort you back to Coruscant after you’ve spoken with your Queen. I don’t foresee an issue. Whereas if I call my master in this emotional state, Obi-Wan will know instantly that you’ve put me out of my misery.”

 

She quirks her lips at that and sighs. _If only he weren’t so transparent._ _But then he wouldn’t be Anakin_ , she reminds herself.

 

“Besides, I’m focused on enjoying the very beautiful now, as a Jedi is supposed to,” he continues, “ _Past and future matter not, only the present_ ,” he croaks, and she laughs in disbelief.

 

“Ani!”

 

“Aw, come on. Every youngling can recite full passages just as Master Yoda taught us. _A mark of respect it is_ ,” he continues, folding his hands in credible imitation.

 

She smacks playfully at his chest. “You deserve all the trouble you’re going to get! I bet he can sense your insolence through your Force.”

 

Anakin tilts his head and lifts a brow, grinning cockily. “That would be a stretch for even his considerable mastery. We can only sense strong emotions over distance, like pain or death.”

 

That makes him frown slightly and pause, and she stills, reaching out automatically to comfort and listen. He still hasn’t fully processed his mother’s death and his actions in the wake of that. It had been horrifying enough for her to help bathe and dress Shmi’s body for burial- for Anakin to dream the things that had been done to her for weeks, and then arrive too late… But he tilts his head and shrugs, as if deliberately pushing those difficult emotions aside. “Actually, there’s one person whose duty it is to be tuned into my thoughts and feelings.”

 

She gives him a worried look before understanding dawns. “Obi-Wan?”

 

“He’s already aware of how much I think about you- he was not pleased that I was given this assignment. And I haven’t tried to control my emotions since you agreed to marry me,” he confesses.

 

She inhales uneasily. “But... you said we could keep this a secret. That you could still have a future as a Jedi if we were careful.”

 

He lifts a shoulder. “He might not have sensed a thing. I’m just saying there’s a chance he already knows about our…official attachment.”

 

She meets his eyes, dismayed. “Oh Anakin…”

 

He shakes his head and takes her hands. “Don’t worry. We’re married, and I don’t regret that for a moment. I wouldn’t be the first Padawan to leave the ranks, if it really came down to it.”

 

Something in the way he says that makes her search his eyes. “But how can you be sure? You’ve dedicated half your life to the Jedi. To just throw all of that away…” she hesitates before continuing cautiously. “Don’t you want to fully understand this power you were born with?”

 

“I have enough control over it that they trusted me on my own with you,” he points out. He frowns. “The masters warn us about how easy it is to slip over to the Dark Side by giving in to emotion.”

 

“And that doesn’t worry you? You’re very… passionate,” she says, flushing a little as she recalls how glorious the past couple of days have been.

 

“Is that a complaint?” he asks, chuckling, and she rolls her eyes and kisses him.

 

“Hardly. I just want to make sure you’re looking at this responsibly. The things you can do…”

 

He grins. “You think I’ll become a power hungry Sith like Dooku because I’m so in love with you?”

 

She gives him an exasperated look. “Of course not. I just don’t know if you’re really ready to give up something you’ve given your whole self over to for so long. It’s not exactly like giving up a work/study program to pursue dreams of being an artist.”

 

He meets her eyes and pulls her close, kissing her in a way that makes it hard to do anything but feel. “Maybe I’m pursuing a different sort of dream,” he murmurs.

 

He’s purposely distracting her, but she doesn’t resist.

 

 

Really, they should just make the most of the time they have.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Anakin meditates for much of the return journey to Coruscant, readying himself to display a less vibrant emotional state.

 

Padmé catches up on correspondence and reports at the same time, rather rueful over the amount of work she has. But she’s pleased by the progress she makes while studious and undistracted, combating her fatigue with Jawa juice and stubbornly ignoring the soreness she feels. They need to be ready to resume their lives as they had left them, keeping those stolen hours and vows close until the next chance for a rendezvous.

 

 

But it’s hard not to worry when they spot several Masters of the Jedi Council waiting on the landing pad.

 

“Relax. Your anxiety makes it harder for me to focus. It’s possible they’re simply here to greet us,” Anakin says quietly while he powers down the engines.

 

She turns, surprised. “And here I thought years of practice had taught me how to mask my reactions.”

 

He glances at her. “They have. You politicians are mostly impenetrable. But I’m very in tune with you now that we’ve...”

 

She flushes with startled realization. “Oh. I thought that was only during.”

 

He gives her a chagrined look. “Not just legally binding for me.”

 

She gulps and exhales, ruthlessly forcing her mind back to the script they’d rehearsed.

 

“I’m ready. Are you?”

 

He smiles- just the right touch of friendly and helpful, and her confidence swells.

 

 

They can do this. And she has so much to work to do that missing him might not be so bad.

 

 

Padmé gives Captain Typho and Dormé a warm smile as soon as she steps off the ship, although it falters when she sees how grim and serious the Jedi masters look.

 

“Master Yoda, Master Obi-Wan, Master Windu. I must thank you again for unmasking this conspiracy against the Republic and providing me such a dedicated bodyguard. I owe him, and therefore the Order, my life.”

 

Yoda nods formally. “The duty of the Jedi it is.”

 

Master Windu pins Anakin with a look. “Padawan Skywalker. Your presence is immediately required before the Council”

 

Anakin eyes Obi-Wan pensively before he bows his head. “Of course.”

 

Padmé hesitates, torn. Obi-Wan looks pained, and that hardly bodes well for Anakin.

 

Anakin turns to her smoothly, his face inscrutably calm. “Milady, it was an honor to serve you. I hope we meet again, under more favorable circumstances.”

 

She smiles and inclines her head, taking his lead. “Likewise. Thank you, Anakin. …May the Force be with you.”

 

That surprises him, and he gives her a ghost of a smile before bowing.

 

 

She steps forward to greet her staff and fellow Senators properly, struggling against the impulse to look back when the Jedi close ranks around Anakin, moving as one to their transport.

 

 

She’s always hated suspense.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore Padme's headspace, because I don't think it's just love that makes her take the leap at the end of AotC-- there's got to be some rationalizing and analysis of angles too.


	2. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _you build me up and then I fall apart/'cause I'm only human_

It’s surreal, standing in the circle of masters as they pass judgment, almost ten years to the day from that first time.

 

 

Anakin hadn’t really cared then that he’d been deemed unworthy. But Master Qui-Gon had protested, insisting that he was “The Chosen One,” that he would train him even without the Council’s approval.

 

 

They’d made an exception. And for years his teachers had marveled over how strong the Force was with him; there’s talk that he’s the most powerful Padawan the Order has seen in centuries. Besides, the Jedi have just suffered massive losses and war marches upon the Republic.

 

So he waits, sure that they will offer him another chance if he acts suitably humble and penitent. Tatooine has no membership in the Republic and his actions there are beyond the Jedi’s legal jurisdiction. If only Master Yoda hadn’t been meditating when he’d gone to find his mother, nobody would even have known. He’s just grateful that this hearing isn’t about Padmé.

 

 

“I apologize. I allowed my feelings to overrule my judgment when I saw what those… creatures had done to my mother. I am still learning, and I will redouble my efforts to practice controlling my emotions.”

 

 

“Too old you were to excise attachment from your previous life,” Yoda says, glaring meaningfully at Obi-Wan. “This was known by the Council. But not only in this grave matter have you strayed from the Code.”

 

 

Anakin waits, trying to breathe deeply to forestall the icy feeling of dread.

 

“You are well aware that attachment is forbidden. And yet you have deliberately chosen it over serenity,” Master Windu says. He activates the screen and Anakin lowers his eyes when he recognizes their marriage certificate.

 

“I’m… sorry.”

 

 

Master Windu’s brows lift, nonplussed. “If that’s so, we can arrange for your marriage to be annulled-- given you never have any contact with Senator Amidala again.”

 

 

Those words knock the breath from him, and he recoils, incensed.

 

“Must you take her from me too? After all I’ve already given to serve the Order?”

 

Obi-Wan winces, but Anakin doesn’t bother reining in the resentment and betrayal.

 

Master Mundi speaks. “You fear losing her. More than anything. And you know first-hand that fear leads to anger, anger leads-”

 

Anakin skips to the end of the all-too-familiar lecture. “The greatest _suffering_ I’ve experienced is because I was kept from those I love! I could have saved my mother if I’d just been given the chance! I know I could have!”

 

Obi-Wan places a restraining hand on his shoulder before he addresses the Council. “Master Windu, you’ll recall that I counseled _against_ giving Anakin this assignment to begin with. Punishing a Padawan for failing a test he was not ready to take is hardly fair!”

 

Anakin’s outrage abates slightly at his master’s show of support, even if the words rankle. But he knows better than to ignore Obi-Wan’s lead this time, so he bites back further protests and bows his head.

 

The Council members exchange uneasy looks, but once Master Yoda sighs and shakes his head, Master Windu steeples his fingers grimly.

 

“Perhaps so, Master Obi-Wan. But there is a reason for _every_ part of the Jedi code, and it is evident that it does not suit him in its entirety. He cannot uphold both his vows to the Order and those to his wife at the same time. As such: Anakin Skywalker, we regret the necessity of your dismissal from the Jedi Order.”

 

 

Anakin clenches his fists bitterly in disbelief, staring at the floor.

 

 

“You will relinquish your lightsaber to Master Obi-Wan, and the Order will provide what we can to ease your transition back to civilian life. Master Obi-Wan, you know the proceedings?”

 

 

Obi-Wan presses his lips together in consternation, but he nods reluctantly. “I am aware of them, yes.”

 

 

“Then see to it. Anakin, we thank you for your service and hope that the Force will be with you in your future endeavors.”

 

 

 

It still feels like something out of a bad dream as he follows Obi-Wan from the Council chamber.

 

 

 

“I thought they would make an exception- they’ve done it before! It’s just not fair!”

 

Obi-Wan stops and grips his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Anakin. I’m not impressed with how the Council have absolved themselves of responsibility in this either. And with Count Dooku still out there and the Jedi spread thinner than ever and _war_ … Master Qui-Gon was so _sure_ that-” he stops himself abruptly, gesturing haplessly before sighing. “They’re right though. Your attachment to Padmé is as clear as day. You should never have escorted her on your own.”

 

Anakin looks away. “We tried to stop falling in love. Well, _she_ tried, mostly,” he admits.

 

Obi-Wan lifts his eyes. “Of course she did. _Padmé_ actually thinks things through. Although I suppose she has the same penchant for taking risks that you do.”

He hesitates. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take the lightsaber.”

 

Anakin’s brow furrows rebelliously. He’d endured so much for the right to wield one. But seeing the pain and regret in his master’s eyes eases his resentment, and after clenching his metallic hand for a moment, he unholsters it abruptly and holds it out.

 

“It’s not mine anyway,” he says, twitching a shoulder.

 

Obi-Wan barks a humorless laugh and looks at him wryly as he takes the weapon. “True. What happened this time?”

 

“Oh, you know. Battle droid manufacturing plant. Hand got welded down; the saw that cut me free also took off the emitter unit,” Anakin hunches his shoulders, chagrined, although he can’t help flexing his new hand. He’s still getting used to the feedback it provides and phantom pains remain unpredictable.

 

Obi-Wan squeezes his shoulder sympathetically. “I’m sorry for all that you’ve been through, truly. A better master might have prepared you to handle such extremes.”

 

Anakin shrugs a shoulder guiltily. “I didn’t listen. I should have. I just couldn’t ignore my dreams any longer and…” he swallows. He still doesn’t like to think back on how he’d smote that camp like deadly lightning, how invincible he’d been with the power of his hatred to draw from --and the fear in Padmé’s eyes when he’d confessed. “…Will they give you a new apprentice?”

 

“I can’t predict what the Council will do. But at least it should be easier to stay out of trouble without you,” he muses.

 

Anakin scoffs. “More like harder to _get out of_ trouble.”

 

Obi-Wan shakes his head fondly before he looks toward the Senate building in the distance. “And now you’re _married_ , and to a politician no less. Do you _ever_ do things by halves?”

 

Anakin shrugs uncomfortably. “She’s had my heart for years- that became clearer with every moment we spent together. I’m just grateful that I make her as happy as she makes me.”

 

Obi-Wan looks back at him, troubled. “Anakin, listen: you _must_ be cautious. If what you did on Tatooine is any indication... Negative emotions can easily lead you down the path to the Dark Side, and should anything ever happen to Padmé- ”

 

The idea sends a cold frisson of fear down his spine before Anakin squashes it determinedly. “Padmé is safe. We caught the assassin and the Viceroy has no reason to strike out at her anymore.”

 

Obi-Wan sighs. “I realize I am no longer your master. But you _must_ continue working on controlling your emotions, or I fear someday they may get the better of you. If even a respected Master like Dooku can be turned to the Dark Side…”

 

Anakin meets his eyes for a long moment before nodding solemnly. “I understand. And I promise.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Damage control._

 

That’s the frenzied mode Padmé’s staff goes into when Anakin arrives, interrupting their military budget planning.

 

 

Padmé is devastated on his behalf, but everybody else in the room is far more concerned with what their marriage will do to her political image, especially in wake of her failure to prevent the Military Creation Act. The timing couldn’t be worse- a hasty, illicit marriage should not have been her priority over returning to Senate immediately. And the fact that he’s been expelled from the Order makes it all the more scandalous.

 

That they have to procure an expedited spouse visa for him to remain on Coruscant only adds to the list of problems he’s created for them.

 

The only one who doesn’t act like the world just imploded is Jar-Jar, who keeps waxing rhapsodic instead.

 

 

He’s not sure which is worse.

 

 

So he broods, feeling useless as her team debates “spin angles” for the media gauntlet they’ll have to run in an attempt to preserve electoral favor. This is Padmé’s world, not his, although it heartens him a little to see how she also refuses to consider “undoing” their marriage as a solution.

 

It’s a relief when she finally asks for them to adjourn for the day, and they finally have the privacy to just hold each other. But after a minute of soaking up the comfort of her embrace, he broaches the subject that’s been bothering him.

 

“Could you remove my braid?”

 

She meets his eyes and nods. “Of course. Is there some way I should do it?”

 

“A Padawan becoming a Jedi Knight has it removed by lightsaber, but you can use scissors or a knife. It’s just hair.”

 

She bites her lip, unsure.

 

“…Anakin, if you’re not ready-“

 

“No. Continuing to wear it would be a lie. At least it won’t hurt like removing the slave chip did.”

 

 

 

Not physically, anyway.

 

 

 

He sits and stares straight forward while she cuts it, mindful about controlling his emotions. But when she presses a kiss to the offending spot after, he feels the grief he’s shoving down well up with the memories that flood his mind.

 

 

The Temple in the morning light after meditation. That lonely first night in the dorm, surrounded by strangers. How out of place he’d been- too tall and too wild next to the cultivated calm of classmates half his age. How none of it had mattered when he was moving in tune with the Force, the borrowed lightsaber an extension of his arm. His first kyber crystal in his hand and the beaming pride in Obi-Wan’s smile. How strange it had first felt to braid the bands into his hair.

 

 

All just memories now, instead of steps towards a future he’d been so sure of.

 

 

 

He clutches Padmé’s arm, and she wraps the other around him and presses her cheek to his neck wordlessly. And he lets the tears come.

 

 

He knows Obi-Wan is right. But somehow he senses that it’ll be safe to let his feelings storm here, in the circle of her arms.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Making love that night is different.

 

On Naboo, they’d both preferred her on top- she could control the pace and depth while he’d delighted in the unfettered access, both awed and wildly aroused by the view.

 

But tonight is not about tantalizing discovery- he just needs to bury himself in her welcoming body and let the pleasure drown out everything else.

 

She holds him after, her eyes wet and her thumb making soothing circles at the nape of his neck.

 

He pants, luxuriating in the blissful relief, at peace for the first time since they’d left the ship. But once awareness returns, he lifts his weight off her so he can search her eyes. “You didn’t…”

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

He frowns uneasily. “Of course it does. I swore a vow to honor you with my body.”

 

“And I swore a vow to share in your dreams and support your goals. And to think of my people before myself,” she replies wryly.

 

He’s dismayed to see her so regretful. “Padmé, it wasn’t just…us. They also knew I went to Tatooine, that I disobeyed direct orders and… lost control. …You know ten years ago the Council didn’t even want to train me? Jedi shouldn’t remember their parents or what love feels like… I guess maybe they were right. ”

 

She nods but she’s obviously still troubled, so he continues. “We’re both good at fixing things. And we’ll save your political reputation. Together. I promise. But first…”

 

He slides his good hand between her legs, and she gasps and arches.

 

 

He smirks. This, at least, he can control.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The publicist arrives bright and early, irritated about the enormity of the situation she’s expected to present to the public and even more so to find them fresh out of bed.

 

“This is _exactly_ what the public doesn’t want to see! A Senator so caught up in her… _urges_ that she behaves unprofessionally.”

 

“I apologize. I’m usually an early riser but we’re newlyweds,” Padmé says tightly, cinching her robe tighter. “I will update my schedule to reflect my new availability immediately. And you have our full attention now.”

 

Dormé brings in a tray of steaming cups. “Breakfast will be served shortly. Would you like me to set you a place Ms.--?”

 

“Brax. And no, I’ve already eaten,” she sniffs.

 

She does take a cup of Jawa juice though, and sets down her electronic pad so she can read from the notes as they take seats around the table, directing the Camdroid she brought to face them with an imperious wave of her hand.

 

“Love is the easiest angle to spin. People adore romantic narratives and it helps that you took the precaution of marrying him. But it would be best if we could suggest some deeper long-term connection before he was assigned to your security detail. The public dislikes impulsive personal decisions- it reflects badly on your ability to make decisions of any kind, especially with fallout this messy.”

 

Padmé shakes her head. “We met ten years ago, but I’m afraid we had no contact in the interim.”

 

“But if we could pretend that you kept in touch. Even texts, or birthday greetings- just some sort of correspondence-“

 

Padmé frowns. “I will not cast aspersions on Anakin’s time as a Jedi to try to preserve my image.”

 

“Senator, I hate to be blunt, but he’s already been expelled. Your people won’t look kindly on a quickie marriage to some offworlder nobody and your reputation --your entire political career—is at stake here. My job is to get you in front of that, in any way I can.”

 

 

Anakin’s pride smarts a bit at the label, but he holds his tongue. He’d been given worse by Padmé’s staff playing devil’s advocate, but it reminds him of what he’d been when they’d met: a slave, living property. And yet he’d been able to help her and the Jedi. In fact…

 

Anakin speaks suddenly. “Maybe we _should_ go back ten years. I mean, it might help to mention my role in the Battle of Naboo, right?”

 

Padmé’s eyes widen with delighted understanding before she takes his hand, beaming.

 

“Anakin is the pilot who destroyed the Federation Command Ship while I was re-taking the Palace with my security forces,” Padmé informs the perplexed Ms. Brax, squeezing his hand and flushing with pride.

 

Ms. Brax’s mouth drops open and she makes a hasty sign to the Camdroid, who obediently snaps a picture of them, obviously glowingly in love. “Now _that_ is headline and voter _gold._ Marrying a war hero from your first stunning victory as Queen? Your polls will go _up_ if anything- this is exactly the kind of positive spin we need! And the ten-year remembrance parade will be _perfect_ for optics. Buzzwords: Queen and Knight, written in the stars, bound by fate. What are the odds, really…“ she mutters, gleefully tapping instructions into her pad.

 

 

 

Padmé inhales jaggedly. “Like a dream come true,” she agrees softly.

 

 

Anakin’s not sure why she seems more troubled than assured by that.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Unfortunately, there are unforeseen hurdles despite their well-laid plans.

 

 

Anakin is good at adapting to change- missions have taken him to every corner of the galaxy, put him and Obi-Wan in terrible peril time and again, testing everything from his physical endurance and problem solving skills to their teamwork. But Padmé’s world requires a skill set that doesn’t include lightning-fast reflexes or precision lightsaber strikes.

 

There are constantly cameras and reporters, and he finds the scrutiny worse than any youngling trial. He’d rather dive into a nest of banthas than give a practiced statement for the hundredth time, choking back the urge to Force batter the Paps back while flashes go off in their faces.

 

The first time it happened, he’d reacted reflexively, releasing his hold on them as soon as Padmé had protested.

 

Ms. Brax had been hard pressed to keep those affected from filing assault charges and releasing holotapes of the incident. And they’d paid for his mistake: personal apologies, exclusive interviews and Camdroid repair/upgrades.

 

 

It’s a sobering lesson in his new limitations— he’s no longer a Jedi operating above the law. He just wishes everything he does doesn’t automatically reflect on Padmé, that there weren’t always cameras to catch any slipups. He knows the strain all of this is having on her, no matter how collected she strives to appear.

 

And yet she’s still trying to reassure _him_. “Another news cycle, maybe two. They’re still running the parade holos and polls are turning around. I expect the war will get the headlines back soon enough and we can just get on with things like normal people again.”

 

“Normal? I thought I married a politician,” he jokes, kissing her hand.

 

“It’s not usually so bad,” she protests, and he tugs her close with a chuckle, holding her until she sighs and relaxes.

 

 

 

Besides, she’s right- it all stops as abruptly as it started when the Separatists mount another massive attack against the Republic and the media suddenly have something else to sink their teeth into.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The days feel oddly empty once things settle. Anakin’s used to moving from crisis to crisis: the Jedi live in the present, too busy to dwell on either past or future, even if their edicts allowed for such reflection. It’s strange to wake and have no master to obey or duties beyond those to Padmé. And he misses Obi-Wan; wonders what crazy adventures he might be on.

 

Some habits Anakin keeps- he has the self-discipline to maintain his physical condition and practice meditating for serenity as he’d promised. But he finds the lack of distraction more perturbing than anything- his mind keeps wandering back to his worst moments: to losing his mother, his hand and his place among the Jedi—the destiny that Master Qui-Gon had staked his dying wish upon.

 

He feels smaller somehow, like a dull herdbeast instead of the watchful shepherd.

 

 

He has to admit there are benefits though- he loves that the whole galaxy knows that he and Padmé are bound in marriage. And it’s nice to be able to own things again, even just tools that he can mod to his own preferences, spare parts and holopictures.

 

It’s soothing to be able to fix and build things again. Plus it gives him something productive to do. He hasn’t lost his touch- he can always _feel_ exactly what’s wrong with the wiring in a droid or a glitchy chip set.

 

Hardly galaxy altering stuff, but Padmé will surely appreciate the engine modifications on the Nubian.

 

 

He thinks. Maybe.

 

 

He’s under the ship installing the compressor when he senses he’s not alone, but he’s surprised when he slides out to see who it is.

 

“Chancellor Palpatine! Greetings- I apologize for the lack of formality. There must have been a mistake in the appointment roster. I’m sure Captain Typho will be happy to come down with a greeting party when I let him know you’re here,” Anakin says, getting quickly to his feet and hurrying towards the communicator.

 

Sheev Palpatine avoids the engine grease splatters on the floor as he approaches, waving away the apologies.

 

“Actually, I’ve come to see _you_ and offer my congratulations on your marriage. I was surprised by both the happy news ---and the decision of the Jedi Order.”

 

Anakin quirks his lips before he gives the usual statement. “Thank you, Chancellor. But the Jedi do not form attachments, and Padmé and I fell in love while I was guarding her. My dismissal was regrettable but unavoidable.”

 

Palpatine shakes his head, tutting sympathetically. “A most inflexible rule. You’d come so far in your training; showed such innate talent! I’d have thought the Council would be more understanding with one who has sacrificed so much and advanced so quickly. I find their lack of compassion, well, rather disturbing.”

 

Anakin nods, frowning. It pains him more than he’d like to admit, how easily they had turned him out. “Padmé feels the same way. But now I am free to live with my wife. And, I suppose, to do anything else in the galaxy.”

 

Something predatory seems to gleam in the Chancellor’s eye then, but when Anakin looks closer, he sees nothing but warm concern. “Quite right. I’m shocked Senator Amidala hasn’t asked you to join her own security staff. You must have been _quite the hero_ to win her heart while on assignment.”

 

Anakin smiles, shrugging modestly. “Ah, Padmé says I distract her. Besides, she wants me to figure out what I want to do with my life independently-- what I like, what I’m passionate about. I’ve been looking at piloting positions, but most of them are for distance runs, and I don’t really want to be away from her so much. So I’ve just been tuning up things until I can find something that feels right.”

 

The Chancellor eyes the engine grease on Anakin’s hands with obvious distaste before smiling pleasantly. “Well, it just so happens that I have an opening in my security staff. I can’t promise that working for me will be as thrilling as piloting spacecraft, but it _is_ a rather important position. How the Separatists would love to strike at the heart and head of the Republic by removing me as Supreme Chancellor! I would be reliant on your investigative skills, as well as your reflexes and…sensitivity to dangerous situations. And you won’t even have to leave Coruscant.”

 

Anakin blinks, frowning. “You want me to use my Jedi powers?”

 

The Chancellor smiles conspiratorially. “Off the record, of course. After all, there are dangers that the best electronic scanners cannot detect.”

 

Anakin mulls that over, unsure. He’d taken out those Paps with only the intent to defend…

 

Noting his hesitation, the Chancellor speaks again. “Naturally, you will be compensated well. If I recall, Padmé is quite fond of Naboo pearls, a specialty of the area I hail from. I’m sure I could arrange a fine necklace as a signing bonus, if you would like…”

 

 

He’s never had the means to buy her anything, nonetheless something beautiful. Imagining her delight seals the deal. “That…sounds wonderful. And the job may be exactly what I’m looking for,” Anakin admits, smiling gratefully.

 

 

The Chancellor’s eyes light up with satisfaction. “Good. _Good_.”

 

 

 


	3. Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _in the arms of the angel/fly away from here_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Lots of reference to the AotC deleted scenes in these next chapters. They are easy to find on Youtube if you don’t have the DVD extras disc handy. And this chapter is rather shmoopy newlywed-y, so if tragic!Anidala is more your thing, er. #thisisnottheficyouarelookingfor

_[→home?]_

_“That’s right, Artoo.”_

_[ > established ETA]_

_“I know. Session ran late and then the Chancellor wanted to talk again. I’m starving. Wish we could fly straight there.”_

_[|: traffic violation 2167?]_

_“No, no. We’ll take the proper lanes. You just keep an eye out for traffic droids, and I’ll figure out the flightpath.”_

_[P(ETA ↑).12 if |: traffic violation 147]_

_“Since when did you become such a worrywort? Threepio must be rubbing off on you.”_

_[!$% R2-D2 ≠C-3PO P(Hungry ˫ Anakin error).88]_

_“Ha! Just teasing, Artoo. I’ll be good.”_

_***_

 

 

It feels like they’re escaping to Naboo again, which Padmé knows is ridiculous.

 

It’s a legally protected right to take vacation time, and it’s only for a few days. Jar Jar has been given strict, thorough instructions, and they’ll be on comms the whole time in case some emergency comes up. But Padmé still worries: the Republic is at war and Senate in constant upheaval- it seems like they lose a system almost every day.

 

The Galactic Republic has stood for a thousand years and it saddens all of them to see it fracture. And yet the majority continues to prioritize further militarization over diplomacy.

 

There’s ample evidence that the Core Worlds benefit unfairly in almost every way; that the system to right such wrongs has become miserably inefficient, that the War is not the main cause for discontent. Surely amicable relations are worth the time and hassle of renegotiating trade agreements, visas and other bureaucratic minutiae. After all, not every system wishing to exit the Republic has joined the Separatist cause- some have remained staunchly neutral in the conflict.

 

She also finds it alarming that so many resources are being diverted to projects that are overtly destructive, despite the boom in trade. _Nothing spurs an economy like war,_ she muses bitterly. ~~~~

The pro-military faction insists it’s all for _protection_ , of course. And the continued attacks from the Separatists seem to underscore the need for more security- she can understand why much of the Senate feels that winning the war is the key to solving their problems. Why the Chancellor must support the most expedient course, even if amassing a fleet and troops seems more and more like a thinly veiled threat to those considering seceding.

 

 

But she’s never missed her grandmother’s deathday observance, and they’ll be returning with the Queen for the Galactic Ball, which makes the trip half official. Besides, this will be Anakin’s first time to participate in Naboo tradition and their first visit home since their marriage.

 

An important personal step for both of them, no matter what may be happening in politics or on battlefields worlds away.

 

 

Of course, Sola is going to be absolutely insufferable; her mom will be laying on the guilt and her dad silently reproachful about excluding them from one of the biggest decisions of her life. But she also knows they’ll welcome Anakin regardless, that they’re eager to get to know him beyond what the awkwardness of holo-calls affords.

 

 

The temporary reprieve from war and work and worry may be just what she needs to strengthen her resolve. She just needs to soak up the warmth of family and be surrounded by green things and breathe truly clean air for a couple days…

 

 

She’s also looking forward to just _being_ with Anakin again for a couple uninterrupted days. The ingrained Jedi sense of duty means that he tends to forget things like legally protected working hours. He’d balked at the idea of asking for holiday until she’d reminded him that Chancellor Palpatine would understand Naboo tradition better than almost anybody on Coruscant.

 

 

And that he’s her family now, too.

 

 

How she’d loved the joy in his eyes at the reminder. How it made her ache to ask…

 

 

“Milady? Perhaps Master Skywalker will be late again? I’m afraid your dinners have grown quite cold, and I don’t dare to reheat the fish more than once lest it become utterly unpalatable…”

 

She sighs and looks up from the notes she isn’t reading. “It’s okay, Threepio. You can power down if you want to- Anakin and I can serve ourselves once he gets home.”

 

“Miss Padmé, I must protest. After all, service is a protocol droid’s primary function! I couldn’t leave you alone here.”

 

“Well, I’d be alone but not lonely. There’s a difference, you know.”

 

“Perhaps so, Senator. But if you don’t mind, I shall stay powered on. After all, R2-D2 likes to jabber on about his day to me. I’m sure he’d be quite bored if I shut down early.”

 

She smiles. “Well, we couldn’t have that.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

_“So? Is what they say about younger men true?”_

_“Sola!”_

_“What? Come on! I saw the state of your hair when you got off the ship. Oh god- look at your face. It’s totally true.”_

_“I hate you.”_

_“You love me. So it’s that good, huh?”_

_“…You have no idea.”_

_“It’s the Jedi thing, isn’t it?”_

_“…He can sense what I’m feeling. So he knows exactly how to… Ahhh- he probably knows we’re talking about him right now…”_

_“Okay, that is hot. With… a side of creepy. He can tell everything? Like even when you’re lying?”_

_“Why would I ever need to lie to Anakin?”_

_“You forget I’ve been married before.”_

_“Well, I intend to be –happily- married.”_

_“Well, so did I, if you remember. “_

_“…”_

_“Look, maybe it’ll help, the no secrets thing. But as someone who’s known you your whole life? You’ve always played your cards pretty close to the chest, you know? Are you really okay with him knowing everything?”_

_“…I have to be.”_

 

***

 

 

“We have to unpack anyway,” Padmé says determinedly as she opens the door to her bedroom.

 

“Your mother doesn’t seem very happy,” Anakin says quietly, putting down the suitcases.

 

“Well, we can hardly agree to another ceremony just to please her, especially while we live and work on Coruscant. And during a war, no less,” she says, popping open the first case. “She’ll have to just accept that we’ve had our wedding.”

 

He tilts his head and shrugs. “On many worlds, weddings are a way to celebrate the joining of families. I can understand why your mother was hoping for more for you.”

 

“Oh, Ani.”

 

She abandons unpacking to take his hands and search his eyes. “All I want is your love. And marriage is a commitment between two people, not… cake and speeches and endless holos. Although… I suppose I could have been more understanding.”

 

He smirks. “So you’re not actually perfect.”

 

She rolls her eyes. “Especially not around my mother. Aargh. I’ll try to keep an open mind. Hand me the clothes that need hanging first?”

 

He gives her a thoughtful look as he complies. “I can see if Artoo archived any holo footage. It’s not the same, but-”

 

She brightens. “It might help. And if not- well, maybe once I’m done my term and we’re free to come home.”

 

That surprises him, but she’s already turned back toward the closet, shaking out and hanging his new memorial robes next to her gown. They don’t match exactly, but the ornate black fabric is from the same weaver, and it pleases her to see how well they go together.

 

“You know, the first time I wore this was to my grandmother’s funeral. I could barely breathe for crying but I had to give the eulogy. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

 

“…You were her favorite grandchild.”

 

She scrunches her nose and shakes her head in automatic denial. “No…”

 

Anakin gives her an amused look before he laughs.

 

She flushes and swats at him playfully. “ _That_ is completely unfair.”

 

He chuckles, dodging. “Some relationships are special.”

 

She looks away before lifting a shoulder uncomfortably. “Sola called it the bossypants gene. Nana taught me so much about how to look at situations; how to see that everybody got what they needed—or at least what they thought they wanted. How to ask for things in exactly the right way.”

 

Anakin inhales, shifting uncomfortably. “…You’re thinking of the Gungans.”

 

Padmé frowns before she looks away. “I… needed a diversion that would be believable. And some men feel most generous when a powerful woman begs,” she admits.

 

“…Well, I think you’re a little scary when you’re Amidala.”

 

That takes her aback, and she gives him a searching look, not sure how to answer when there’s the sound of little footsteps clattering up the stairs before a smiling face peeks in.

 

“Auntie? Grandma says tea is ready. And Mama made rolls with jaaam!”

 

Padmé smiles automatically. “We’ll be right down, sweetie.”

 

 

***

_“Well, I have to say, I’m glad we’d met before. Jobal had a feeling, you know, but we were still surprised.”_

_“I apologize again for the secrecy. And for staying only in Theed for the parade. We didn’t want the media around…”_

_“Nah, son, we understand- Padmé’s been in politics for long enough for us to know how that circus runs. Can’t have democracy without open information, can’t have open information without the media prying into personal business. And you’re here now, and Padmé’s happy. That’s always been our bottom line.”_

_“…Thank you. She’s looked forward to coming back for weeks. The Galactic Senate is in a state of turmoil and she’s been working very hard.”_

_“Canny as a rawl, determined as a hrumph, and all heart. You don’t let her break it on some bill she can’t stop, you hear?”_

_“…Truthfully, I don’t think I ever –let- her do anything.”_

_“Ha! Truer words! Just be there for her and you’ll do just fine, son.”_

_***_

 

Threepio’s been programmed to make small talk and facilitate pleasant conversation, but tea is still awkward. Everybody is achingly polite except for the girls, who alternatively stare at or avoid Anakin while they gobble their desserts in uncharacteristic silence.

 

Padmé’s rather dismayed. It’s even more awkward than when she’d brought him home the last time.

 

She’s struggling to come up with some sort of common ground when Pooja runs out of the dining room and back with a small starship toy.

 

“Mama, it needs a new energy pack.”

 

Sola sighs and shakes her head. “Honey, it’s broken. You crashed it, remember?”

 

“But Artoo is back to play spaceships with,” she complains.

 

Anakin glances over. “Can I take a look at it?”

 

“Oh- you don’t need to trouble yourself, Anakin. It’s just a toy,” Sola says.

 

“No trouble. I’ve always been good at fixing things.” He smiles tentatively at Pooja, holding his hand out. “May I?”

 

Pooja looks up at her mother for confirmation before giving it over, retreating behind Padmé while Anakin turns it over in his hands.

 

Padmé hoists her up onto her lap, ostensibly so Pooja can watch the proceedings, but also to steal a cuddle. “It’s actually how we met. We were forced to land on Anakin’s home planet when our ship took damage escaping from the Trade Federation blockade. Without him we might have been stranded there.”

 

Jobal’s eyes widen. “You never mentioned that.”

 

Padmé shrugs dismissively, looking away. “It was just a… detour on the way to Coruscant,” she insists.

 

Jobal shares an exasperated look with Ruwee before she sighs. “Well, we’re glad you have Anakin by your side now, at least. Everyday we get news on the War and it’s hard knowing you’re so far away on your own.”

 

“Mom! I have a very capable team. But I do feel safer at night now,” she admits, flushing.

 

Anakin looks up at her and smiles warmly before he turns to Pooja. “Your ship’s got a bad motivator. I can fix it if you have a spanner and some bonding tape.”

 

Pooja peeks over Padmé’s arm. “It’s usually the energy pack,” she informs him skeptically.

 

The other adults chuckle at that, but Anakin raises his brows seriously. “I bet it is. But this time I think it’s a cracked motivator. I can show you once we open it up.”

 

“How can you know what’s wrong if you can’t see it?” Rooj pipes up suspiciously.

 

Anakin hesitates. Naboo has historically produced few Jedi youngling candidates- most don’t bother with testing except in major urban centers. “The same way you know that you’re hungry without needing to look at your tummy,” he explains.

 

Both girls nod, and Sola gives him an approving smile.

 

Ruwee clears his throat and pushes back his plate. “Well, why don’t we take it for a looksee, then? Tools are in the garage.”

 

“Can Artoo come too?” Pooja asks.

 

Anakin smiles at the droid. “You want to help us fix this, Artoo?”

 

R2 beeps an affirmative, and Pooja slides off Padmé’s lap and grabs Anakin’s hand. “I can show you where!”

 

“Save me a couple of the rolls?” Anakin manages over his shoulder as she hauls him along, R2-D2 whirring happily behind, and Ruwee and Rooj following.

 

Padmé laughs and waves.

 

“So he’s good with kids. Interesting,” Sola comments, winking.

 

Padmé tries to give her an exasperated look, but she knows the flush in her cheeks ruins the effect.

 

 

***

 

_“Well look at you, the big hero of the evening. I’m surprised they let me get a dance with you at all.”_

_“I enjoyed it. Younglings aren’t as… demonstrative.”_

_“I’m glad you had a good time. …Ugh, I don’t think I can move.”_

_“I’ve never seen you eat so much.”_

 

_“They made all my favorites, and that wine…. I can’t believe you didn’t like the oysters!”_

_“Yeah, I’m not convinced they’re supposed to be eaten like that. Or, you know. At all.”_

_“We can take the boy out of the desert, but not the desert out of the boy?_ _You know food isn’t supposed to burn your mouth off.”_

 

_“No, food isn’t supposed to be slimy and cold.”_

_“Ha! More for me, then.”_

_“Yeah, I noticed.”_

_“Hey! Hmmm… ”_

_“…”_

_“No! Ani…”_

_“But you want to, too.”_

_“I can’t with my family down the hall! Just hold me? Everybody I love is here under this roof, and the War is a billion miles away…”_

 

_***_

 

 

The ceremony is held at a graveyard, which is like the rest of Naboo- lush and verdantly green, dotted with sleek marble. Padmé’s parents lead the procession behind the priests, followed by firstborn Sola and her children, and Padmé and Anakin behind. After them follow a train of friends and more distant relations, every person bearing a flower of some kind.

 

She murmurs cues to Anakin throughout the proceedings (“bow, three pinches of incense, hands together, bow again”), knowing they all make allowances for offworlders, but her eyes widen when he recites the incantation with them.

 

It’s not until they’re given their time before the grave that she can take his hand and squeeze.

 

“Thank you for learning it,” she whispers.

 

“We’re family,” he says simply, giving her an embarrassed half smile, and she smiles back even though her eyes and nose sting.

 

They offer their flowers and incense before she speaks.

 

“Nana, this is Anakin, my husband. We were married three months ago.”

 

She hesitates before she speaks again, softly. “You were right. I didn’t expect it. And it was just like you said.”

 

She carefully wipes ash off the stone with her fingertips before she steps back again, and she meets Anakin’s eye before they repeat the formal farewell phrases in Naboo, bow, and follow after her family.

 

 

***

 

_“Anakin Skywalker! How’re ya doin’?”_

_“Commander Olié. I’m very well, thanks. I didn’t expect to see you here.”_

_“Aw, you know. Ruwee and I were in the Freedom Relief Movement way back when. His mother was a force of nature, I tell ya- have to pay my respects.”_

_“Of course. You’re still stationed out of Theed?”_

_“That’s right- Bravo Squadron. We’re hiring more pilots and purchasing more ships, what with the War and all.”_

_“You’re still flying N-1s?”_

_“No, N-2s now- more power. You can stop by and see them while you’re in Theed picking up the Queen, maybe. But you’re living on Coruscant- have you seen those Republic TIE fighters in action?”_

_“The Chancellor actually pulled some strings and allowed me to take one for a test flight. They’re amazing- fantastic acceleration and maneuverability. Strange to fly without an astrodroid though- no way to repair damage or make longer range calculations.”_

_“Ahhh, trade-offs, I suppose, for the smaller body. And the specs on them look incredible! If only her Majesty had the Republic’s deep pockets, eh?”_

_“Well, surely the Separatists have better targets than a small Mid-Rim planet like Naboo…”_

_“We’re a pacifist world and the Senator’s been supporting a moderate political agenda. But can’t help but worry, what with being the Chancellor’s home world, and all. Need a proper first line of defense since it takes the Republic so long to get movin’.”_

_“…That’s true.”_

***

 

 

“I can tell when you’re brooding over something,” Padmé prompts gently, unpinning her hair.

 

Anakin eyes her and shrugs, hanging up the fancy robes carefully. “It’s just… you still feel the pain of losing your grandmother.”

 

“Of course. She was a big part of my life.” Understanding dawns. “You’re thinking of your mother.”

 

“We love each other so much. I thought… it would fill up the… hole.”

 

“…Love doesn’t work like that. It helps you carry losses, not… block them out. And grieving takes time.”

 

“Jedi aren’t supposed to grieve. Mourning is selfish when they have simply returned to the Force. Master Yoda called it a shadow of greed.”

 

She presses her lips together. It’s just a different way of thinking, maybe, but everything she’s heard about repressing emotions… “…Jedi aren’t supposed to feel love either. And you told me once that you never wanted to forget her,” she points out.

 

Anakin grimaces ruefully. “It was always easier for other Padawans to maintain serenity, since they’d been trained from birth. And I’m not a Jedi anymore, I know. But- I can’t imagine feeling pain is healthy.”

 

“Well, normal people learn how to deal with their emotions --even the painful, ugly ones-- not shut them away. And I’m here to listen, and support you. Like you’re here for me.”

 

Anakin considers that before he meets her eyes and nods.

 

She smiles wanly. “Besides, they haven’t gone. Not really. They live on in our memories; their legacy carries on in the things they’ve accomplished. And in _us_. So. I’m sorry to inform you, but when we have a girl, her name will be Leia.”

 

Anakin has to laugh. “ _When_?”

 

Padmé gives him a hesitant look. “I was Queen for two terms and now Senator for almost two. And I told you once that…”

 

“…You want children. I remember.”

 

“I know you probably haven’t thought about it yet. But I see how caring you are with Threepio and Artoo and my nieces and…” She shrugs. “Maybe it’s also being home. I feel like I can _breathe_ here. Know I can build things and make them _grow_ instead of fighting to keep something irreparably broken from crumbling.”

 

He inhales and tilts his head, troubled. “I’ve never known you to back down from a challenge.”

 

She huffs a laugh and leans against him, closing her eyes. “Maybe I’m wiser now. Or just ready to live for _me_ instead of Naboo.”

 

He gives her a thoughtful look before he kisses the top of her head. “I would love to… continue the legacy.”

 

She turns her face up to his, smiling tremulously. “Yes?”

 

“I can’t think of anything more wonderful. Especially the making part.” He tilts his head at the bed and raises a brow.

 

She shoves him, laughing. “Oh you!”

 

 

 

 

But she’s the one who initiates that night after they get into bed, sliding her hand down into his pajama bottoms and making him bite back a moan.

 

“I thought you didn’t want to here,” he gasps.

 

“I changed my mind. We can be quiet,” she explains between kisses. “And now that it’s okay to start trying...”

 

Anakin smirks as he pulls her close. “And you’re horny.”

 

Padmé groans. “The Queen will be with us on the return journey and it’s already been three days. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

 

“Well, I suppose that is my specialty,” he chuckles.

 

 

 

***

 

 

_“Queen Jamillia! Senator Amidala! Master Ani! Welcome to Coruscant! It’sa so good to see all of yousa!”_

_“Thank you, Representative Binks. It’s good to see you all as well. I trust nothing unusual happened in Senate while we were away?”_

_“Just the same old bigga bigs talkin’ the same old longo tello. Ain’t nothin bein’ decided except makin’ muy muy committees.”_

_“…It’s a wonder anything has been decided at all.”_

_“Lotsa bosses gonna be at the Galactic Ball. Itsa gonna be hot! Mesa thinkin’… it might be speedier to get themsa agreein’ there, while desa whoopsy an’ smilin’.”_

_“I agree. So does the Chancellor. So we all have to be as prepared as we can for this… party.”_

 

 

***

 

 

It’s got to be the corset. And it doesn’t help that she’s starving-- it takes so long for full makeup, hair and wardrobe, even with Dormé’s help. The full regalia isn’t as extravagant and heavy as what she was expected to wear as Queen, but on special occasions she still needs to be half ornate display and half impressive tradition.

 

 

Officially, the Galactic Ball is to celebrate the commissioning of the new Super Star Destroyers, but it’s also a show of power and wealth for the systems thinking of defecting. The Chancellor is also pushing through a tax increase to cover ballooning military expenditure, and this event is PR to convince those reluctant to support the bill.

 

 

Like her.

 

 

 _The day we stop believing democracy can work is the day we lose it,_ she reminds herself sternly. And it’s her duty to serve her queen and her people in the way they wish- even if it means an evening of carefully worded conversations over cocktails and dancing with diplomats.

 

 

But first she needs to fix this.

 

“Ani?” she manages.

 

He hurries in, looking both handsome and awkward in his new blue silk robes. “I think Threepio might short out from excitement- he can’t stop talking about the guest list. What’s wrong?”

 

She indicates her back with a tilt of her head. “Could you loosen the corset strings a little? I think Dormé’s done them a little too tight and if I have to debate with military officials all night, I need to be able to take a proper breath.”

 

“You sure? I don’t want to mess up your whole Amidala look...”

 

“Dormé needs to get ready too, and you’ve done this before.”

 

Anakin smirks and tilts his head. “I’ve helped you _undress_ before. You seem to want this to stay on,” he points out.

 

“Ani!” she admonishes, laughing before taking a shallow gasp and grimacing. Alarmed, he crosses the room immediately, unhooking the back of her gown with practiced ease and undoing the corset fastening. The relief is immediate, and she gulps for breath.

 

“Oh, that’s better!”

 

He shakes his head ruefully. “All this for an evening of politics.”

 

She gives him an apologetic look as he carefully reties the lacing. “That’s perfect. I know it’s a bit ridiculous, considering the circumstances. But if it prevents more systems from seceding, we all have to play our parts. The Chancellor wants everybody to understand which side will be the winner and remind us that we have more bounty as an interconnected whole. And good food, wine and music might make all those sovereign heads more amenable.”

 

“There will be many Jedi present tonight.”

 

She catches his hand before meeting his eye in the mirror. “Will you be all right?”

 

He shrugs. “It had to happen eventually. Just strange to be one of you instead of one of them. But I’m glad you intervened with the Chancellor. I’d rather escort you than him to this thing. Even if it means we have to dance.”

 

She has to laugh. “Sheev Palpatine was an renowned dancer back in the day. A graceful gentleman who never stepped on any toes. You’d be lucky to get a dance with him,” she teases.

 

Anakin rolls his eyes and grins as he reluctantly refastens her gown again. “You know what I mean.”

 

She meets his eyes in the mirror again and smiles knowingly. “Well, I know you prefer your boring uniform. But I can’t wait to dance with my incredibly handsome husband.”

 

He smiles and presses a kiss to the makeup-free spot on the back of her neck. “And I’m delighted to be your partner, milady.”

 

 

***

 

_“Well, well, Naboo silks and colors. You wear them well.”_

_“Thank you, Chancellor. I suppose I should have known marrying Padmé would make for fancier clothing. The fabrics are a lot more luxurious than I'm used to.”_

_“One of the many benefits of leaving the Order, I’m sure.”_

_“I suppose so, Excellency.”_

_“Ah! What sublime timing… Anakin, I’d like you to meet Captain Wilhuff Tarkin, one of the fleet’s finest. Captain, this is Anakin Skywalker, Senator Amidala’s husband and an accomplished star pilot, as well as one of my most trusted guards.”_

_“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I understand you flew in the Battle of Naboo?”_

_“Yes, but-”_

_“Now, now, Anakin. This is not the time for modesty. You must explain your thoughts about the TIE fighters that you shared with me earlier. After all, a good commander listens to those who have more expertise in the trenches, so to speak.”_

_“Of course, Chancellor.”_

_***_

 

 

Padmé can tell Anakin’s still unsettled- he meditates throughout the drive and his eyes go immediately to the Jedi Knights watching over the guest arrivals, bowing slightly in acknowledgement when they turn to meet his eye after they step out of the vehicle.

 

"Obi-Wan isn't here," he says softly, brow furrowing.

 

She takes his hand, trying to project as much support and understanding as she can, and he smiles wanly at her.

 

“I’m fine. Couldn’t think of spoiling Threepio’s big night,” he jokes softly.

 

C-3PO is in a state of intense excitement, his head swiveling erratically as he scans the other arriving guests. “Senator! I do believe that gentleman behind us is the Archduke of Ceba! You expressed a desire to speak with him earlier if I recall, and I am fluent in all the languages of Ceba Prime. I would be delighted to translate if you wished to approach him. Oh! And by the entrance! The Senior Councillor from Malustare!”

 

“Told you,” Anakin murmurs in her ear, “I wish I could’ve brought a Harris wrench.”

 

Padmé laughs and squeezes his hand. She’s glad he’s maintaining a lighthearted humor, despite the underlying discomfort. “Well, this has to be nirvana for a protocol droid. Think of how many years he spent on Tatooine talking to evaporators.”

 

“I guess. I just worry about all the language switches- I never imagined he would do more than help my mother,” he admits.

 

“Senator Amidala!” A reporter calls out, “As a staunch opponent of the Security Tax proposal, isn’t it hypocritical to attend tonight’s event?”

 

She gives her a measured smile. “If this Super Star Destroyer is as impressive and powerful as promised, I am sure the Republic will need only the one that has already been bought and paid for. And of course, Naboo celebrates this technological achievement with all the worlds of the Republic tonight.”

 

“But Senator! Isn’t it true that-“

 

Anakin smiles politely for pictures and keeps Threepio from hurrying too far ahead as she makes her statements. He still has little patience for politics, but he has to admire the way his wife does her job; how hard she works to represent the views of her people. From what he’s observed, not all –or even most—of the Senators the Chancellor interacts with on a daily basis have the same priorities.

 

Still, he likes the media even less, and he exhales with relief as they clear the press section, and get ready to clear security.

 

There are the usual weapons detectors, droid registration and retinal identification checks, but they all know the two Jedi Masters standing guard over the entrance are the most important sentinels.

 

Padmé edges in front of Anakin as they approach, chin raised and ready to take the brunt of any censure.

 

As if amused, the Togruta Jedi smiles, although her eyes seem to look as much through them as at them. “No further judgment shall he face unless he breaks the law, Senator,” she says gently. “And it warms my heart to see a former pupil so happy.”

 

Anakin smiles and bows formally. “Master Shaak Ti, Master Plo Koon.”

 

The Kel Dor Jedi on the other side of the entrance seems to be giving them the same scrutiny before he gives Anakin an approving nod. “Your emotions are already steadier. I too, am glad. Although-“ he breaks off as he turns his gaze to Padmé, tilting his head as if curious.

 

“Masters,” Padmé replies with a bow, keeping her face carefully neutral. She doesn’t have to ask how they knew what they were feeling, but it’s unsettling nonetheless to feel so transparent.

 

 

But then they wave them though, and Anakin exhales audibly as they enter the hall to collect C-3PO. “Well, that was easier than I expected. Think we can eat before you dive into the politicking, though?”

 

She squeezes the arm he proffers, feeling giddy with relief herself. “Yes, please!”

 

 

***

 

 

_“Strong his feelings for his wife are.”_

_“They are newly married. It’s to be expected.”_

_“For a human, yes. For the Chosen One, worrisome. Clouded his future remains.”_

_“Perhaps we should ask Master Obi-Wan to pay a visit to his former apprentice. They were exceptionally close. If we have another Count Dooku in the making, surely he will sense it.”_

_“Agreed.”_

_“Masters Yoda and Windu.”_

_“Masters Shaak Ti and Plo Koon. A problem to report?”_

_“Not exactly. We believe Skywalker’s wife is pregnant. And the Force must be strong with the child for us to be able to sense it already.”_

_“If this child has even half of Skywalker’s talent-“_

_“And we can train it from birth-“_

_“Yes… Perhaps misread this prophecy was…”_


	4. Halo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _every rule I had you breakin’/it’s the risk that I’m taking/I ain’t ever gonna shut you out_

 

He’s late again, and hungry and irritable. It’s a pattern that’s become all too common, as well as the one where the door opens to a silent apartment, because C-3PO is powered down in the corner and Padmé’s curled asleep on one end of a sofa.

 

She looks so perfectly peaceful and lovely that his mood instantly eases as he shucks off his cloak and kneels next to her. She hasn’t eaten either, or he’d let her sleep.

 

Or not. He loves the warm welcome in her lips after her eyes flutter open, the convulsive grip of her hands that tells him how much she’s missed him too. _Home._

 

“Hey, sleepyhead. Sorry to keep you waiting again,” he murmurs, smiling.

 

“S’okay. …I must be coming down with something. Can’t seem to keep my eyes open recently. How was work?”

 

He frowns and brings a hand to her forehead automatically, but she doesn’t feel feverish, and her Force presence is vibrant and healthy. Even brighter than usual, in fact, which makes the fatigue even more odd. “We foiled a plot to poison the air systems feeding into the Chancellor’s chambers. Just wish we had the same power as the magistrates or the Jedi. We weren’t allowed to even _observe_ the interrogation.”

 

Her eyes widen and she runs her hands over his arms and neck, scanning him anxiously for signs of injury. “Another attempt? Was everybody all right?”

 

Anakin shakes his head dismissively as he helps her up. “Yeah, I mastered breath control ages ago and the gas they used had this acrid smell, so we detected it right away. A couple of the other guards were treated for inhalation, but no lasting harm. What bothers me is that the investigation will likely go nowhere again. The slimeballs will just refuse to talk and slink into hiding after making bail. If we could just _act_ without having to worry about all the legal stuff, we’d have a lead, or at least know if this was an isolated incident.”

 

“It sounds frustrating,” she observes, placing a dish in the warmer.

 

Anakin gestures restlessly as he fills their glasses. “We caught them in the act! We should be able to force a confession out of them.”

 

Padmé frowns. “Well, being guilty of a crime doesn’t void their rights.”

 

Anakin shrugs. “…It wastes time and opportunity. And it doesn’t seem just to me.”

 

“Maybe not to somebody who is used to cutting through red tape with Jedi authority. But _courts,_ not individuals, decide the shades of right and wrong for the rest of us; dealing out punishment preemptively isn’t _justice_. There must be other ways you can investigate.”

 

Anakin exhales and shrugs. “We’re looking at gas manufacturers, and the container they used might be traceable. I just think an attempt on the Chancellor should be taken more seriously! They brought in the Jedi to protect you after _one_ attempt. There are a couple of magistrates I don’t mind working with, but mostly they’re overworked and overwhelmed.”

 

Padmé frowns, also puzzled. “That’s true. …I suppose the Jedi are as well, with so many of them being assigned to lead campaigns in the War. That’s the only reason I can imagine why the Chancellor isn’t asking for their help. The media is certainly upset about how these attacks keep recurring.”

 

Anakin shakes his head with disgust. “He keeps saying how lucky he is to have a former Jedi working security. But honestly, I can’t do half the things I used to. I still keep reaching for my lightsaber- blasters are about offense, not defense. I wish I could do more.”

 

Padmé wraps her arms around him, eyes blazing. “Hey. You’ve reduced your hand to scrap once defending the Chancellor. Disarmed perpetrators with your powers and then kept them immobilized—all without harming anybody. He _is_ incredibly lucky to have you.”

 

Anakin can’t help but smile. “Look at you spinning the positives like a politician.”

 

“I’m proud of you. You should be too,” she says staunchly.

 

Anakin flushes with pleasure at her effusive defense and pulls her close until the warmer behind her beeps.

 

“At least I got an upgrade on the hand after,” he jokes, stroking her hair back, grateful that he’s no longer touching her with exposed metal. “Nice not to have to be content with austerely practical. Come on, let’s eat. It smells amazing.”

 

Padmé smiles. “It’s Kessel stew. Dormé’s been experimenting with spicier recipes from the database, and Threepio showed her how to make flatbread.”

 

Anakin beams as he sits. “Remind me to thank them.”

 

They both eat heartily of the excellent stew while they debate their options for the upcoming weekend: they’re hoping to take advantage of the rare meshing of their schedules to take a little trip.

 

“The mountains on Alderaan are beautiful and the food, art and music are all exquisite. I’ve only been once and I’d love to go back. Plus it’s such a short ride, so we could be back quickly in case an emergency session is called. Alternatively, we could go to Corellia- there’s beautiful natural illumination in their jungles at this time of year. I seem to recall a boy with big dreams of traveling, and I’m betting Jedi are never sent to peaceful Core planets,” Padmé teases.

 

Anakin shrugs sheepishly. “Well… they sound nice enough, but podracing season has just started on Malastare, too. I’ve seen adverts and followed racer stats for years, but as a Padawan there was no way I could go.”

 

Padmé blinks with dismay. “Podracing? Like on Tatooine?”

 

Anakin grins and tilts his head charmingly. “I haven’t had the chance to see a race in person since I left. It’ll be fun to make bets and try all the snacks I never had credits for. Besides, you know we’re going to spend half the trip in bed trying to make a baby anyway.”

 

She flushes and bites her lip. “Wouldn’t you rather make a baby on a luxurious bed with a beautiful view?”

 

Anakin laughs and raises his brows. “Because we’ll be looking at the scenery?”

 

She refuses to give in despite the flush on her cheeks. “Well it’s better than spending the rest of the time watching a bunch of vehicles going around in circles, trying to smash each other out of the running. Just imagine how romantic it would be to bathe in a private hot spring with snow falling around us.”

 

“ _’A bunch of vehicles going around in circles’_? I think you sorely need an education in the synergy of piloting skill and engineering involved,” he teases.

 

She rolls her eyes. “At least you can’t have built a racer with how busy you’ve been! I still can’t believe Master Qui-Gon had the audacity to stake _everything_ , sight unseen.”

 

He chuckles and opens his mouth to tease her about lacking faith in her future husband before movement in the Force distracts him. His head snaps towards the door before he grins with bewildered delight and drops his fork, almost knocking his chair over in his haste to get to the door.

 

“Ani?”

 

“Obi-Wan’s here!” he calls back over his shoulder.

 

The comm beeps, but Anakin’s already palmed the door switch before the guard has a chance to announce anything.

 

To his credit, he only looks startled for a moment.

 

“You…have a visitor,” he says, bemused, even as Anakin is happily waving Obi-Wan inside.

 

“Master! Come in, come in!”

 

Obi-Wan smiles warmly as Padmé hurries over to greet him.

  

“Master Kenobi, can we set you a place? We’re just enjoying our evening meal now and there’s plenty for one more.”

 

“Thank you, my lady. I would be delighted,” he says with a bow. Padmé goes to fetch another setting from the pantry while Anakin gestures towards the table, getting another glass and bottle of wine from the cupboard.

 

“You both look very well,” Obi-Wan says quietly, gripping Anakin’s shoulder with obvious approval.

 

Anakin inclines his head, understanding the implied assessment. “You know what the Masters say: the Force often works in mysterious ways. It was strange not having a master at first, but my wife and my job keep me striving to meet challenges anyway.” He gives Obi-Wan a curious look. “I haven’t felt your presence on Coruscant for months. And you seem-” he breaks off, unsure.

 

Obi-Wan raises his brows and sighs. “The Jedi now command soldiers and battalions instead of arbitrating disputes and investigating truths. It’s… an unfortunate way to try to regain peace.”

 

Anakin nods, eyes downcast, and Padmé gives them both a searching look as she re-enters and places a setting before Obi-Wan. “Perhaps the Jedi Council has recalled you so you can take some time to rest and refresh yourself at the temple. I am sure every system is as grateful for your assistance as the Naboo were in our time of need.”

  

Anakin tries to keep envy from coloring his tone as he offers a glass of wine. “And you’ve certainly distinguished yourself in battle, master. Even the Chancellor has spoken of your skill, both with the lightsaber and in command.”

 

Obi-Wan waves a hand dismissively. “I’ve seen some of the stories in the media, and I would say it’s far less glorious than described. Death and destruction on such a large scale… it’s not easy to witness, nonetheless be a party to. I must admit I have little love for it.”

  

Anakin frowns. “Well, surely _more_ deaths have been prevented through your actions.”

 

Obi-Wan smiles wistfully. ”That _is_ the justification we give ourselves. And of course, the Jedi must support the Republic.” He shakes his head, eyes brightening. “Come to think of it, there _was_ a starfight I thought you would have enjoyed immensely. We were in the Iego system, trying to take down a containment field the Separatists had installed over the planet. About thirty of us, mostly clone pilots, in Z-95s-“

 

Anakin’s mouth falls open. “Couldn’t they have at least given you ships with an astromech socket?”

 

“Not on such short notice. Remember: Government funds move a lot slower far from the Core. Anyway, we were moving in standard scout formation when…” Obi-Wan moves his hands to demonstrate as Anakin listens, utterly rapt.

 

 

Padmé can’t help but smile over how animated they both get as they converse. They’ve obviously sorely missed each other, so she makes her excuses soon after they’ve all finished eating. 

“No, no, please! _Sit._ Stay, and enjoy your visit. I’m probably coming down with something and need more sleep to fight it off. Try not to stay up all night, or to forget to get more wine for our guest if you run out,” she reminds Anakin, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

 

Obi-Wan extends a hand. “Well, I greatly appreciate the hospitality, my lady. It was wonderful to see you.”

 

Padmé blinks, surprised by the formality, but she gives him her hand to hold and bow over before retiring for the bedroom.

 

Obi-Wan remains standing contemplatively for long enough that Anakin tilts his head curiously. “What is it?”

 

He hesitates. “…Anakin, surely you’ve noticed. Padmé’s not ill.”

  

Anakin chuckles knowingly. “Of course she isn’t. Pretty sure she just wanted to let us talk without having to explain all the shorthand to her.”

 

Obi-Wan smiles wistfully at the easy affection there, wishing the Council had asked anybody else to do this particular errand.

  

“Anakin, I don’t quite know how to put this- have you been trying for a child?”

 

He looks at him with blank astonishment and then turns towards the bedroom, grinning. “The medbot said it takes an average couple three months of trying! We were hoping to time it with the completion of the Senate year-”

 

He’s taken two eager steps towards the bedroom before he remembers that he’s supposed to be hosting, but Obi-Wan waves him on, already backing towards the front door.

  

“No, no, go on! Talk to Padmé! Hopefully I will see you both again before the Council sends me off on another campaign. After all, it’s far more important to confirm such happy news than for old friends to trade stories,” he says, smiling ruefully.

 

And he’s grateful that Anakin’s incandescent joy is enough to eclipse his own feelings over that unfortunate truth.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not just the reunion that ends in a surprise: the next day Padmé is given a diplomatic mission to Malastare.

 

 

Anakin’s immediately uneasy when she tells him. “But you’re pregnant! Shouldn’t some other senator go?”

 

She's rather amused by his protectiveness. “Well, nobody knows yet, nor should they until we’re sure this pregnancy is viable. And it’s not like talks are physically taxing. Captain Typho, Dormé and Threepio will accompany me, so I’ll have plenty of support staff.” She pauses, cupping his cheek tenderly when he continues to frown. “The Republic is hemorrhaging systems. Diplomacy is needed to convince heads of state to reconsider, and Malastare has always been a key system. The Chancellor suspects that Senator Ainlee Teem has held a grudge ever since losing his own bid for Chancellor. An appeal in person from the head of the opposition to the Doge and his Council will show the Republic’s commitment to Malastare.”

 

“I just… I can’t explain it, but I have a bad feeling about this,” Anakin frets.

 

She hesitates. “One of your dreams?”

 

“No. Not as clear as that,” he admits. “Or I wouldn’t allow you to go at all.”

 

She frowns. “ _Allow_ me?”

 

He hastily retracts his statement. “I mean, I’d have something more definite to convince you with.”

 

She softens immediately and pulls him close. “You know I trust your intuition. Could- do you think the Chancellor might spare you for a couple days?”

 

Anakin frowns. “He still mentions how taking so many personal days to go back to Naboo with you made him uneasy about his security. With the constant threat of assassination, he prefers me on his guard. They’re also going to make some decisions about spacecraft commissions this week, and it’s a privilege to be privy to the discussion- he says I have a lot more hands-on experience with engine builds and piloting than his political advisors.”

 

She presses her lips together. The favoritism the Chancellor shows him is odd, even if she’s sure Anakin is incorruptible and hardly on the payroll of one of the shipyards or corporations jockeying for contracts. But she _is_ good at finding compromises, so she smiles bracingly.

 

“Well, how about we leave early, go for the weekend, like you wanted? You can come back on your own once you’ve assessed the place, made sure there’s no threat lurking around. And…” she sighs with mock exasperation, “I suppose we can see the podraces if we’re there anyway.”

 

His eyes light up with excitement at that unexpected boon. “Really?”

 

She chuckles and nods, and he whoops and whirls her in a loop. “Aw, Padmé, you’re the best! I’ve been checking out some of the stats on the racing teams and it’s an incredible lineup! This will be so much better than some scenic tour, I promise!”

 

She has to laugh at his boyish enthusiasm. “Uh huh. Sure.” Maybe his presence will dispel whatever foreboding he felt too. He isn’t brooding about it anyway, which is a good sign.

  

He raises his eyebrows wickedly as he chuckles. “Well, if the races don’t entertain you, I promise to find some other way to make this trip worth your while.”

  

Pleased, she pulls him down to claim a kiss. “Well, I do like the way you keep your promises…”

 

 

And with that, they both focus their attention on letting him demonstrate.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It ends up being serendipitous, in more ways than one.

 

 

Doge Nakha Urus is also in the VIP section where Dormé had procured them seats, although he’s initially impatient with the need for diplomatic courtesy when he would rather be focused on the impending race.

 

 

That is, until Senator Amidala introduces her husband.

 

He gives them both a curious look. “Anakin Skywalker? Relation to human podracer from Tatooine?” he asks in Basic.

 

They both blink, astonished, before Anakin smiles and bows, speaking in Dug. _“…That’s me! Built the racer with refurbished parts. Padmé and I met just before that race. Changed my life, but I’m surprised anybody remembers- it was years ago.”_

 

Doge Nakha Urus chortles and rubs his back appendages together with relish. _“Ah, I never forget a racer that surprises me! A finishing time of 15 minutes and 42 seconds at the Boonta Eve Classic. You beat our Sebulba and lost me some money. Would never have believed a human child could have the reflexes for podracing, but now I am understanding! So you ended up a Jedi for some time, huh? You’re sure we can’t interest you in competing today?”_

 

Anakin grins and shakes his head modestly. _“I’m just here with my wife. Been wanting to come for years. Quad drives weren’t around when I was racing, so it’ll be exciting to see them in action. And I’ve heard a lot about the course hazards-”_

 

The Doge chuckles and nods enthusiastically. _“Yes, yes, not a contest without the spur of danger! Perhaps you’d like a stroll through the pits? I have connections on the circuit- we can take a look before the race as long as we stay out of the way of the crews. And you can give me a few expert tips, huh?”_

  

Anakin grins. _“If it’s not too much trouble._ Padmé, can you believe our good fortune?”

  

She smiles back automatically at his delight, although she’s slightly dumbfounded by how neatly the pieces have fallen into place. She often wonders if this is some kind of Jedi effect.

  

She’s still relieved to be able to converse with a Doge in a far more generous mood, with C-3PO eagerly serving as translator. And the conversation naturally wanders from racer backgrounds to the Doge’s concerns about growing discrimination against non-human species in the Republic, from engine part suppliers to trade route disruption and the unfairness of privileges accorded Core Worlds.

 

_“You must agree, Senator, that Mid Rim planets like Malastare and Naboo have the most to lose. Those from Malastare value loyalty, but we also have a healthy appreciation for innovation. And the Separatists now espouse interests and ideals that will benefit us more than the antiquated rules of the Republic. I cannot ignore the possible benefits to my people because of nostalgia or fear of embracing the new.”_

She nods. “Very fair points, Doge. But the Republic is not a static entity, incapable of change. There is always, always new legislation being brought to the Senate, affecting change across the galaxy. I’m here to make sure the concerns of those in the minority are heard. And I’ll do my best to address them immediately.”

 

The Doge gives her a nod of grudging respect. _“I am glad some in the Senate still listen. Our own Senator has expressed much concern about corruption affecting the Galactic Senate, especially in the Chancellor’s circle.”_

  

Anakin’s face darkens and Padmé quickly places a restraining hand on his arm. “I’m… sure those allegations are unfounded, merely fabricated rumors. I know for a fact that the Chancellor has devoted his whole life to public service,” Padmé assures him.

 

The Doge gives her a skeptical look before a trio of racers rounds a turn with incredible verve, barely missing each other, and the whole crowd surges to their feet.

 

They both dispense with political talk for the rest of the day. Official talks will occur soon enough, and they’ve given each other ample food for thought already.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Anakin's delighted when Padmé admits that she's been enjoying herself much more than she had expected. 

"It's a lot more thrilling when your fate isn't staked on the results," she protests, smacking his arm when he gives her a smug grin.

 

"So you might be amenable to coming again next year?" he asks, and she rolls her eyes and smiles. 

 

"Well... you might have to ask the baby, too," she reminds him.

 

"Ah. That's true," he concedes happily, pulling her close. Now that he knows it's there, he can observe the life growing in her, so vibrantly bright that it almost seems like two souls, nurtured and safe.

 

 

That quiet thrill and the excitement of the races, delicious food and lively marketplaces distract him from uneasy awareness less and less though. By the time he's supposed to return to Coruscant, he's visibly agitated.

“I just- I can’t explain it. I don’t want to leave you here. I feel-” he gestures restlessly, still unable to find a source for the creeping sense of impending violence.

 

Captain Typho clears his throat. “With all due respect, we’ve _both_ checked the hotel, the transport and the Council chambers multiple times, sir. And there’s been no statement of ill intent like there was before the assassination attempt. We’d need solid evidence before we could justify bringing more armed security to a diplomatic meeting.”

 

Anakin exhales impatiently. “I know! I just-“

 

He meets Padmé’s eyes imploringly and she grips his hand. “I know you’ve done your best. Maybe one last check before you take the transport, to ease your mind?”

 

He lifts a brow sardonically. “Fifth time’s the charm?”

 

Padmé sighs. “Ani, _I believe you_. But we both have jobs to do. I swore a vow as a Senator- and these negotiations could be the key to continued peace for _billions_. I can’t abandon diplomatic talks even if you fear for my safety.”

 

He thinks hard before he suddenly exhales, equally determined.

 

“That’s true. But I swore a vow to you, too. Let me just make a couple calls.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Anakin trades shifts with the Chancellor’s other guards to extend his stay a couple more days. He’ll be working for a couple weeks straight upon returning to Coruscant, but he can’t ignore or suppress his gut instinct.

 

At first, he feels guilty for the problems his continued presence here causes. Dormé and the local administration have had to rush security passes and authorization; Captain Typho has had to adjust the protocols he has in place for the meeting. But that feeling of wrongness reaches a fever pitch when talks break for lunch.

  

Anakin frowns as servants push in trolleys laden with fragrant tureens and skewers of food. All looks and smells normal but-

 

_-the servile attitude on that one is feigned! Padmé! NO! DON'T YOU DARE!_

He’s already moving before the servant behind the roast meats casually hefts a skewer, aiming one end at the head table.

 

He’s not going to make it between them in time so he reaches out with the Force, flinging a tray off the trolley to block whatever projectile she was firing off. Captain Typho and the other security guards unholster and aim weapons at the other startled servants even as Anakin reaches the trolley, snatching the "skewer" with one hand and the assailant with the other.

 

“Republic scum! Boot licking sycophants!” she gasps, clawing at his arm, her other appendages kicking uselessly as he lifts her off the ground, squeezing her throat.

 

Padmé and the Council are now flanked and covered by the guards but once all the servants have their appendages raised, she scrambles forward, her eyes wide with horror. “Ani! Don’t! Please! You can’t do this!” she cries.

 

 

Anakin barely hears her at first, but the red surge of power and fury abates abruptly as her words and that terror on her face _\--fear of him—_ registers.

 

And he drops the assassin, who sucks in a desperate breath while scrabbling for something concealed in her clothing.

 

“Not so fast,” he gasps, reeling but trying not to reflect too closely yet, immobilizing her limbs instead. “You’re a Separatist?”

 

She struggles against the invisible bonds, still trying to reach something on her thigh before she nods.

 

Anakin frowns with confusion.

 

“You’re… lying,” he pants. “Why?”

 

Her eyes widen and she raises her voice frantically. “No, you Republic scum must die! Malastare must be free!”

 

He searches her pockets and finds the object she’d been searching for: a medspray, the sight of which causes tears to well up in her eyes.

 

“Please! This was supposed to be quick-“ she pleads.

 

Despite all the rage driving him earlier, he steps back involuntarily now, chilled. She’d _expected_ to die- she has the same sort of desperate drive that he’s felt in suicide bombers. But there are sour notes in the picture, like her choice of weapon, even if it was cleverly smuggled in. She _might_ have killed her target, but there would have been survivors aplenty to subdue her. What kind of fanatic chooses a sniper’s weapon and then walks into point blank range?

 

Captain Typho frowns and carefully bags the medispray for evidence. “Something’s off. A bomb would have made a bigger statement and taken her out instantly. It was like the _message_ was more important.”

 

“I concur. A True Believer terrorist feels righteous, fanatical. She’s desperate all right, but… she doesn’t actually _believe_ in the Separatist cause.”

 

Captain Typho inhales, nodding before he looks up. “Looks like the local authorities have arrived. Probably take at least a day before the dust settles- it’s a good thing you took that extra time off. Those former-Jedi powers are truly amazing,” the Captain says gruffly, and Anakin looks over at Padmé and swallows.

 

She looks as shaken as he feels. Still...

 

“Just relieved I could be here.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Despite neutralizing the threat, Anakin's left worried. It’s not just the incongruous nature of the crime; it’s the rest of the evidence.

 

Unsurprisingly, the assailant refused to say anything except vehement anti-Republic rhetoric and the medspray was full of a particularly virulent toxin: a quick, irreversible way to die. Her accounts also showed a fairly recent deposit of a hefty sum of cash that she "couldn't remember" the source of. The dart they’d found embedded in the tray was also hauntingly familiar- he could swear it was the same shape and make as the one used on Padmé’s would-be assassin months ago.

 

Obi-Wan had discovered that Viceroy Gunray had been behind the attempts on Padmé's life, but why would he strike at her again in a way that would obviously garner _sympathy_ for the Republic instead of the Separatist cause? 

 

It all points to something other than the straightforward terrorist narrative the Malastare authorities have put together. And he’s annoyed that his observations as a _former_ Jedi were insufficient to induce further investigation.

 

“Sure, sure, the Force told you she’s a lying liar. No laws against lying to you! And what does it matter, pretty boy? She’s gonna get the chair, 10 to 1 on. And it's even helped your wife- Council's way more likely to vote to stay now.”

 

 

Returning to Coruscant is little better even though Padmé is safely behind a full security complement, and the Chancellor is full of praise over the lives saved and diplomatic crisis he’d help avert.

 

 

It rankles that he was powerless to pursue the truth, how any lead to the real instigator behind the attack disappears when the abortive "assassin" is swiftly executed. 

 

 

It makes the new position the Chancellor has spoken of creating for him even more appealing.

 

 

Still, he's taken aback when he sees the official notification:

 

_Deviations from the scheduled Guard Roster will no longer be tolerated, to ensure proper security. Effective immediately, Guards making personal “shift swaps” will suffer disciplinary action and/or fines._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Padmé is pleasantly surprised when Obi-Wan pays them another visit.

 

“I’m afraid Anakin is working extra shifts this weekend, but he should be home in a couple hours if it doesn’t run overtime. We can enjoy some Jawa juice on the terrace in the meantime.”

 

Obi-Wan bows and smiles pleasantly. “Thank you, Senator. That sounds lovely.”

  

He speaks cautiously once they're seated. “...I've actually come to speak to you about the likelihood of Force sensitivity in your unborn child.”

 

Padmé smiles graciously, placing one hand protectively over her belly. “Oh! Well, it’s early yet. Isn’t the blood test done at birth?”

 

Obi-Wan nods. “Yes. But when we sense the Gift early, we must try to prepare parents beforehand. Most cultures value offspring highly; and it can be difficult to give up more traditional hopes for a child, no matter how one esteems or understands the importance of the Jedi. But Force sensitivity can be a double edged sword- history has shown us many who abuse this power without proper guidance, and without training a Force user will never reach their full potential. If Anakin had been born on a more civilized world, he would have been tested and trained from a much younger age, and doubtless have achieved Knighthood by now, unburdened with the need for attachment.”

 

Padmé blinks, stung by his choice of words. “Unburdened? Loving attachment is a natural and _beautiful_ part of being human. Don’t you know how much Anakin’s looking forward to raising our child together? Teaching him or her to walk and read and-” she scoffs a little, sure pregnancy hormones are responsible for the tears in her eyes, "fix droids and engines?"

 

“…I do. You must know how much I regret feeling that power growing inside you. But I also believe the Jedi Temple is the best place for those that are Force-sensitive. Younglings trained from birth in serenity and harmony experience little of the turmoil we've both seen Anakin endure. We do not miss what we have never had.”

 

Padmé considers for a long moment before she speaks.

“It's just... to never know love? I would never wish that on _anybody_. Not least on our child. I'm sure Anakin can help her with her Gift initially. And if she still wishes to become a Jedi, we will apply to the Council.”

 

Obi-wan stifles the urge to remind her that that exact course is probably what lost Anakin any chance at becoming a Jedi, sighing. “You’re angry at the Council for expelling Anakin.”

 

She looks away. “Yes and no. It hurt him- he felt so abandoned. Lost.” ~~~~

“...I’m truly sorry I wasn’t able to protect him.”

 

Padmé looks at him guiltily. “It was just as much my fault. I shouldn't have acted on my feelings. But I'm so glad he's an integral part of my life now, that we're free to be together... even if I know he's often frustrated that he can't use the Force as he had.”

 

Obi-Wan nods pensively, choosing his words carefully. “Padmé, you must understand: if you have this child here on Coruscant there will be mandatory tests. And the fact that I am able to sense it this early must mean your child is as strong with the Force as Anakin himself. Padmé, he tested _off the charts_ when we found him on Tatooine. The Jedi will only continue to pressure you to give such an extraordinarily gifted child into their care. On non-Core worlds like Naboo, however, I believe regulations are less strict.”

  

Padmé inhales jaggedly, putting her hands protectively over her belly before meeting his eyes.

 

“I understand. I’ll speak with Anakin tonight. And we'll let you know our decision.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_"A Military Officer?!"_

_"The Chancellor says I'm a natural at strategy and of course, I have combat experience from my Jedi training. As an officer, I'd have the authority to open investigations, expose plots or terror cells. To send ships and troops where they are needed. Just think of the possibilities!"_

_"I am! Handing out special military appointments? I can't believe Sheev Palpatine thinks this is at all acceptable."_

_"Well, why not?! I want to protect the Republic just as you do, and you know I'm not corrupt! Besides, if the Jedi are now in command of battalions and troops, why shouldn't I be? I was almost ready for the Trials, and now I've had months of experience serving the Republic directly. So why aren't you supporting me in this?"_

 

_"Because it's not right! Officers are supposed to rise through the ranks with experience."_

 

_"You don't have a problem with the Chancellor commanding the Republic's fleet!"_

 

_"Because those vessels were originally for providing aid and transport to systems in dire straits! For thousands of years, the Republic didn't have a Grand Army. It's only now that we have warships, weapons and cloned troops."_

 

_"We're at war! How are we supposed to win a war without making ourselves stronger?"_

 

_"By addressing the reasons for Separatist discontent! Resolving conflicts through talks and understanding and compromise! That is what civilized society is supposed to uphold. Instead this feels more and more like a dictatorship; like we're quelling obvious injustice with threats of violence."_

_“Those more powerful get to have control. That's the natural way of things.”_

_“Those in power are supposed to serve the people, not control them!"_

_“You’re- you're just confusing the issue like a politician!”_

_“…Do you think I’m representing this unfairly? Trying to filibuster your decision into stalemate? I can’t lie to you. Not even if I wanted to. And I think that you haven't been happy doing this job for some time. What makes you think even more of it will fulfill you?"_

_“…”_

_“I understand why you want to feel powerful and recognized. But it's not just this... appointment that has me worried. Obi-Wan came to see me today. He says our baby is Force sensitive, and that the Jedi would very much like to raise the child. That if we stay here, they will keep pressuring us to give our child to the Temple. And... I want to love and raise our baby, not watch her get trained from afar. I want this child to set her own path, not one decided by what she holds in her genes... But if what Obi-Wan says is true, this baby will need your guidance. Can you do that if you're fighting a war for the Republic in another star system? …Can you let go of pride and choose a path we can all walk together?”_

_“…”_

* * *

 

 

Anakin approaches the Chancellor with his head inclined humbly before bowing. “Chancellor Palpatine. I'd like to schedule an appointment- perhaps tomorrow- to speak to you formally about my decision."

 

The Chancellor smiles with delight. "No need for such formality among friends! Tell me now quickly before the next delegation arrives, and we can begin setting the wheels in motion."

 

Anakin inhales, unsure, before plunging ahead. "...I'm afraid I'll have to decline your generous offer. We've recently learned that Padmé is pregnant. And after discussing our options, we've decided to raise our child on Naboo, among her family and away from…everything here. The pollution, the politics, and pressure. As we've already decided to promote Lt. Arnx to my position, I believe your security will remain uncompromised. I'm just sorry I won't be able to serve you in the capacity you wish.”

 

To his credit, the Chancellor is only speechless for a moment before he smiles dismissively. “Come, Anakin, don’t be foolish! There’s no need to run off to Naboo! Giving up yet another promising career because of your wife? There is plenty of opportunity for power and renown now that the war is escalating- the Jedi are spread far too thin! You can provide handsomely for your family while safeguarding the entire Republic as she cares for your child.”

 

Anakin nods regretfully. “…It’s very tempting, and I’ve considered long and hard. But… I never had a father. I can’t do that to my own child, or Padmé. And if something happened to them while I was stuck here on Coruscant or on some battlefield, I’d never forgive myself. I can help fly defense for Naboo- piloting’s what I’m really good at. Actually, Commander Olié’s already offered me a position- ”

 

His voice falters. There’s a terrible undercurrent in the Force, malevolent and charged. And the Chancellor’s eyes, usually so warm, are cold as ice.

 

“So much raw power. And yet you lack vision.”

 

_It’s almost as if…_

 

Anakin takes a wary step back. “My first duty is to my family, Chancellor. And myself. I… had hoped you would understand.”

 

“A joke of the universe. That all I have orchestrated could be undone because of some squalling brat.”

 

“…Sir?”

 

The chirp of the intercom seems ridiculously loud, and they both stand frozen as the outside guard’s voice breaks the tableau.

 

“Chancellor Palpatine: Senators Organa, Amidala and Mon Mothma, as well as Representative Binks here to see you.”

 

His last afternoon appointment.

 

The senators enter in a stately procession, utterly oblivious to the swirl of the Force around them, although Padmé frowns questioningly at the look on Anakin’s face.

 

But the Chancellor has already returned to a mild-mannered smile and Anakin reels, wondering if he could have imagined the whole thing: there's absolutely nothing there to sense now. 

 

“Chancellor Palpatine. We’ve come before you today to inform you of some happy news- and therefore a transfer in leadership for the Opposition.”

 

Padmé eyes Anakin worriedly before tilting her head slightly, to indicate that he should join her, and he steps forward hastily, keeping a wary eye on the Chancellor and instinctively trying to shield her slight body with his. She gives him another baffled look before speaking.

 

“Perhaps Anakin has already appraised you, but upon occasion, the needs of private citizens must come before public service. And as we’re currently expecting our first child, our family situation is due to change in only a few months. So we’ve decided to go home to Naboo. I’ve already informed the heads of Chommel sector planets, and they’ll convene to discuss a new Senator delegate tomorrow. Representative Binks and I will work together to handle the transition. The Opposition systems have also convened and elected Senator Mon Mothma to lead in my stead. I am sure her wisdom will help you decide the course for the Republic in these troubling times.”

 

The Chancellor smiles thinly, his eyes focused on Padmé’s stomach.

 

“Of course. So be it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It's been ages since he's felt so free, spinning towards the ground with Artoo whistling excitedly from the astromech socket. He pulls up in time to make a neat loop over the estate before coming in at a reduced speed for the landing strip.

 

Padmé comes running when they land, and he can’t help grinning as he raises the cockpit shield and vaults to the ground so he can catch her close.

 

“I almost couldn’t believe it when I heard the engine! You’re home so early! This is the N-2?”

 

“Yup. Handles way sweeter than the N-1, huh, Artoo?”

 

The droid chirps an enthusiastic assessment, cycling the craft through cooldown and lock protocols before he ejects. C-3PO tsks and waves.

 

“There’s no need for dramatics, R2-D2. I’m sure it was perfectly safe with Master Ani at the helm.”

 

Padmé frowns as she reads the Naboo stenciled on the sides of the ship. “But… the Queen’s wing flies out of Theed.”

 

“Artoo can secure the ship controls against any would-be fly-boys, and if I file my flight plan at night, I can rendezvous with the fleet in space in the morning. Save the commute. Queen Jamillia was very concerned about maintaining a legal work/life balance.”

 

“Well, it sounds perfect. Some of us aren’t very patient about meal delays,” she reports, and he laughs and cups his hand over the growing swell of her stomach before he steals another kiss.

 

“Well, that makes it a unanimous vote. Can’t even remember what lunch was- the commander and I were talking all through. Have to say, it is _so_ nice to fly again.”

 

Padmé squeezes him happily as they walk towards the house. “Tell me everything over dinner, then. I have so much to tell you about the junior legislators I met with today! And my parents made so much progress on the nursery…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He’s slept soundly next to her ever since they've been married, and they've been so happy living back on Naboo for months that she doesn't understand at first why he's tossing enough to wake her.

 

“Ani?” she mumbles blearily.

 

“No! Stop! No, no, no…” he chokes, struggling in his sleep.

 

_A nightmare. Like when his mother-_

 

“Ani! _Wake up._ Ani, please! You need to _breathe_ ,” she begs, pressing a hand to the side of his face before shaking him. He shudders convulsively when his eyes open and he finally sucks in a breath as if his lungs have suddenly remembered how to work again.

 

“The Jedi. Even younglings. Slaughtered, like…” he breaks off and shudders, blanching and turning away from her.

 

“Hey! _No._ Look at me. _Look at me._ You’re here. We’re safe.” She doesn’t offer him empty platitudes of reassurance- his dreams might scare her, but they’re all too accurate.

 

“I should have been there. I should have stopped it. Oh, Padmé, what have I done?”

 

“Listen to yourself! What could you have done except been killed yourself? We’ll get on comms, see if-”

 

He shakes his head, tears running down his cheeks. Visions still haunt his mind’s eye: younglings mowed down in classrooms, the Temple a smoking inferno, masters and classmates betrayed and ambushed in one fell stroke all across the galaxy. “I could have been powerful enough to save them, I know it,” he says brokenly, staring at his hands, one real and one false. “I was so sure these powers meant I would do something _special_. And instead I just- ”

 

 

His self-recriminations come to an abrupt halt as he looks past her again, unseeing, his mouth falling open and breath coming in painfully shallow gasps.

 

 

When the vision releases him, he pulls her close, squeezing so hard that it hurts.

 

“Ani?! Stop! Please-!”

 

He releases her instantly, shocked at himself. His eyes are still wide with the glittery sheen of terror, but he’s utterly certain.

 

“The baby. They’re coming for our baby.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.: Bet you thought I’d abandoned this! :P Sorry the update took so long. I’ll try to be faster with the next chap, if only so I get this fic done before TLJ obliterates my theory. XD
> 
> Haven’t watched TCW, so Malastare’s worldbuilding is based off of what I gleaned from Wookiepedia and its mentions in the films. Internet opinion is split on whether Anakin was speaking Dug or Huttese with Sebulba in TPM, so I went with Dug because plot. :P
> 
> Would love to hear your thoughts. This chapter isn't beta-ed, so if you see plot holes big enough to fly a Star Destroyer through, please let me know!


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